On the Walls with Rico
by Yggdrasil Fiction
Summary: On the day before the fall of Trost, Ian and Rico have a romantic meeting atop Wall Rose.


The land beyond Wall Rose seemed to stretch out endlessly before Ian from where he stood atop the wall. Looking out at it you'd never have known the another wall stood beyond, and the true outside was beyond reach. Nor would you have known that just a few years ago the land Ian now looked at had belonged to humanity.

Behind him the district of Trost was just beginning to wake with the morning sun. The district sat nestled within a ring of walls, and the red roofs and cobbled streets stood out in the gleaming light like a flower sitting in a vase on the windowsill. And like a flower Ian knew just how delicate the city was. That a stone gate that could be destroyed in seconds was all that stood between Trost and wholesale slaughter at the hands of the Titans. Five years ago humanity had lost much, but no more. Trost was his to protect, and Ian swore to himself that humanity would never lose another flower again.

'You look rather melancholy,' a voice said. Ian turned to his right to see Rico Brzenska, Squad Leader of the 1st Division Elite Force, approaching him. He was surprised to see someone else on the wall with him. Even in these tense times it still took the Garrison several hours to rouse itself each morning to action. Presumably a hold out from their old lives where an attack on the walls was thought of as an impossibility. Indeed there were still those who thought what happened in Shiganshina five years ago would never happen again. Not Rico, of course. A woman didn't become Squad Leader by being lazy. Well, not unless they were in the Military Police.

'Rico,' Ian said with a nod in her direction, 'what are you doing up here?'

Rico came to a stop beside him and rested a hand on the gas canister of her maneuvering gear. 'I could ask you the same thing,' she said with a slight narrowing of her eyes.

'Just taking in the morning sun and gathering my thoughts,' Ian said, looking out at the horizon again, 'and you?'

'The 104th Training Corps graduate tonight. Tomorrow there'll be a flood of raw recruits swarming these walls putting what they've been learning into practice. I'm just up here making sure there's nothing out of place for when they get here. We just got those new cannons fitted after. It wouldn't look good for the Garrison if one of them went off in a recruits face.'

'How considerate of you,' Ian said, 'people would be surprised to know you had it in you.'

'And what's that supposed to mean,' Rico huffed.

'Just that you can come off rather harsh to people. I apologise, I shouldn't have said anything. I know you're not that way.'

'Well whatever, I don't really care.'

Silence fell between them. The air tousled Ian's hair and in the distance he saw two birds flying next to each other. He was about to suggest to Rico they should start expecting the cannons when she spoke.

'Ian, can you look at me.'

He turned his head, bemused. Beneath her thin rimmed glasses her blue eyes were glaring out at him with intensity mixed with something else he couldn't identify. Something unsure.

'Do I look harsh to you. Answer me, honestly. What do I look like?'

You look like a soldier, Ian almost said. You look like a leader. You look tired, like you've been up since before the sun. But the question seemed important to her, so he didn't say any of that. Instead he narrowed his eyes like he was assessing a tactical plan, and gave her his full attention.

She wasn't a tall person, even for a woman. Her frame was slight, with just the hint of curves beneath her uniform. Her hair was cut to a practical shortness, like most soldiers, and was a light blonde colour, like the pale yellow of the sun. Her eyebrows, the same colour, were particularly bushy. Her face was both sharp lines and soft curves and held an intensity to it that was always frightening. An intensity for her job. For her defence of humanity. For the people under her care.

'You look beautiful,' Ian said.

A rose red blush coloured her cheeks. 'Ian...'

Ian felt colour rising in his own cheeks. 'Sorry,' he said, turning away.

'No,' she said, and he felt her hand on his cheek, his head being turned around, and then her lips were pressed against his.

Her lips were small and soft and warm, like buttered bread straight from the oven. Ian felt her tongue brush against the inside of his mouth, its movement slight and nervous. He answered her probing tongue with his own, pushing it against her hard and sure, letting her know it was okay.

Their maneuvering gear clanked together as they pulled closer to each other, breaking through their concentration on each other. Their lips broke apart and they pulled away from each other. Rico was taking small, shallow breaths. Not from the exertion of what they'd done but from the sheer intensity of it.

Ian put a hand on his maneuvering gear. 'We should take this stuff off,' he said.

Rico ran a hand through her hair and slowed her breathing. 'We can't, Ian. Not up here.'

'What,' Ian smirked, 'you've never wanted to join the 50 meter high club?'

'Who said I haven't already,' Rico answered with a smirk of her own, 'but we're not recruits anymore, Ian. It wouldn't be proper.'

'No, I suppose not,' he said.

'But tomorrow,' she said, putting a hand on his chest, 'maybe we can meet somewhere in private.'

'Not tonight,' he asked, moving his hand to his chest and putting it over hers.

'I've got a meeting with Kitz tonight,' she said, 'but tomorrow, I promise.' She pulled her hand away from his chest. ' Now come on, let's check out those cannons.' She turned and started to walk away.

Ian paused for a moment. 'Tomorrow,' he whispered to himself, then followed after her.


End file.
